It's that single moment,

Out of every year,

Where there's enough silence,

For the voices of the war-weary veterans,

And the fallen soldiers

To stand tall again,

Their names dripping from thankful lips

As the battle worn survivors

Close their eyes against the poppy red reminders

Of once innocent battlefields

And final words whispered from bomb torn throats.

It's that single moment,

Out of every year,

Where long buried hands,

Now bearing the semblance of solidity,

Slide their fingers into hands of men that have long since wrinkled,

But still remember the darkness of a gun grasped there

And whose ears can still hear the marching and whispered camaraderie.

It's that single moment,

Out of every year,

Where the years melt away,

And there are no war-weary veterans

Or fallen soldiers

But rather,

A song for heroes who didn't ask for one,

Thanks for those who didn't expect it,

A unified heart and pride thrumming,

In that single moment,

Out of every year.

┬ęThe Last Letter